Tattoo

Prologue

My Granddad's name was Jonathan. He died when I was 18 months old, so I didn't really know him. So I guess you can see why I was so confused that my tattoo ended up being his name.

It appeared about 2 months after I'd turned 13 and I was so excited because I was the second of my friends to get it. The first was Mel, hers was on the top of her foot and read "keep going". I liked the simplicity of it because it was still so motivating and powerful for just two words. It could mean so many different things at different moments in her life. We were all so jealous, we had this theory amongst us that once you got your tattoo you had matured. My excitement was short lived however when I realised that mine was my Granddad's name, who I had never even known. I was gutted. I didn't get a cute symbol or special date, I got an unknown relative. My parents suggested that it was because he loved me so much and I should honour it by getting to know what he was like and blah blah blah. At 13, it was a let down. My Mum and Dad actually got the same tattoo would you believe. They have the date they met on their wrists and I think my Dad got his before my Mum. It's so special to them both, they didn't even know it's significance until after they started dating, a year later. Again, I was so jealous.

* * * *

When I was 18 I moved out of our rather large home in Maidenhead and decided to get an apartment in the city with my savings. I wasn't going to university, I believed it was a waste of three years, I wanted to get straight into work. My Dad had his own law firm which meant he had lots of contacts and was able to get me a receptionist job at the Vivienne Westwood head office in London. My parents were sad to let me go but agreed I needed this independence and were so supportive of my choices.

I've been working in London for over a year now and I love it. I was able to apply for a HR job only 6 months into being a receptionist there, and I'm now in charge of managing the personal relations for the company. I plan on working my way up the ladder. Fashion is one of my favourite things so I was so lucky to be in the position I was in. The job also meant I got access to the biggest clubs and high end fashion events, my social life was made even more exciting than my working life. Some of the after show parties I attended were some I would never of even dreamt of being invited to. The celebrities I had the pleasure of meeting too. Oh my god. On the side I kept an up to date fashion blog and practiced writing because I loved journalism too.

I had my own apartment. It was small with just two bedrooms on the eighth floor of a tall building, about a mile walk away from the office. But I wouldn't change anything about it. It was simple in it's layout but my personal decor and style shone through and I loved the responsibility of having my own place.

* * * *

I decided my tattoo was actually irrelevant to my life. I was so content with my achievements and where I was and Jonathan seemed to play no part in that, so why dwell on it? I didn't need a distant memory to get me through anything.

What I didn't realise is that my tattoo wasn't what I first interpreted it to be.